January 19, 2023
Jeannette Bayardelle’s Shida is a Triumphby Randi / September 19, 2019It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is Old Stock at Wilton’s Music Hall until Saturday.
Man alive what an amazing month of theatre it’s been! Last week I was blown away by the one-woman show Shida, and I felt rejuvenated in my love of musical theatre and its ability to tell stories on a superhuman level. Well it happened again literally five days later, when I saw Old Stock at Wilton’s Music Hall. I didn’t expect this one-act musical to crush my soul and break my heart and make me laugh hysterically and then cry hysterically, but it did, and I cannot recommend enough that you race to Tower Hill to see it in the next few days. RACE.
Okay, maybe I would have expected it if I knew at all going in what it was about, but as usual we heard “at Wilton’s” and said “we’ll be there” without needing another word. It’s about immigrants, specifically Jewish immigrants to Canada about 100 years ago and the trials they faced…so yeah, we should have been ready for our EYES TO DROWN but that’s all in the past now. And we all wish we could say the hardships, bigotry, and turmoil these immigrants portrayed faced is all in the past too, but the beauty, the heart-breaking beauty of this staggering work, is that the story describes the plight of immigrants today just as powerfully as it does those of the past. Like the pinnacle of Jewish musical theatre, Fiddler on the Roof, Old Stock tells an important Jewish story that really can be adopted by any minority group, anyone who has ever been ostracized or persecuted, with just as much power and meaning. That’s the beauty of musical theatre, its ability to transcend demographics and time and specifics and speak right to the human heart. And that’s especially the beauty and power of superb musical theatre like this.
The show, by Ben Caplan, Hannah Moscovitch, and her husband Christian Barry (who also directs), tells of Chaya (Mary Fay Coady) and Chaim (Eric Da Costa), two Jewish refugees from Old Country who meet en route to the safe harbors, so they hope, of Canada. I mean sure people will still be racist but they’ll be polite about it. And sure they’ll be told they aren’t real Canadians, not ‘old stock’ (drink!), but at least they’ll have health care AM I RIGHT. They fall in love, one first then the other, and navigate their past trauma, their uncertain place in a new country, and their open future. All the while, a wild, fantastic troubadour in the form of Caplan’s narrator called The Wanderer takes us through the story with a score that explodes with emotion, with wit, with wildness and disobedience as much as it exudes tenderness, thoughtfulness, and real invention. You clutch your stomach laughing early on and then by the second half you’re wondering when exactly you starting weeping, all the while immersed in a storytelling that I cannot commend enough.
Da Costa’s open, vulnerable, joyous face instantly wins you over, as Chaim should. With Chaya’s more reserved nature, Coady has a harder job of winning you over in spite of herself, and they are both flawless. If they are the heart, Caplan is the lifeblood of the production. He’s like if Harold Zidler and Cabaret’s Emcee played together in an acid trip in Dr Frank-n-Furter’s mind but with real grit and heart. It’s a wild and crazy explosion of a performance…and then it’s reverent and quietly gorgeous, in an instant. His impressive ability to shift between raucousness and emotional truth, between booming anarchist anthems and Yiddish folk songs and then sweet lullabies, is a precise and powerful instrument, and a rare one at that.
The fact that Caplan wrote these songs, these incredible songs that play with genre and emotional beats in a magnificent way, and has that versatile, booming, unstoppable voice is one of those things where you’re like ‘god, ffs, that’s not fair to give all that to one person.’ Like when I went to law school with an actual model – was not cool. The score’s versatility – while still seeming generally cohesive – reminded me of the best of Dave Malloy’s work, weaving in and out of genres yet retaining a true voice and always holding firm to emotional truth. And that emotional truth is what rings out even more than the superb score and the flawless performances, a message that despite being ostensibly about a story from 100 years ago is as relevant today as ever.
INFORMATION
The show is just under an hour and a half and you’re going to savor every single minute. I LOVE EFFICIENT SHOWS THAT CAN’T BE EDITED ANY FURTHER. Info leaflets with all the good info a programme would have are free, and there are CDs (HIGH RECOMMEND) on sale for 20 pounds (WORTH IT) as well as Caplan’s other albums. The night we saw the show, the entire cast + crew + Barry held a post-show Q&A that was wonderful. They all have impressive insight into their characters and the role the show plays in telling the story of today’s immigrants as well, which obviously shone through the work. Did I say you should go? You should go. Man that post-show reveal of where Chaya and Chaim’s bloodline led to I CANNOT.
Seating at Wilton’s is in single rows (no breaks) in the stalls, with the house right aisle the one closest to the exit/bathrooms. Upstairs there is a ring I think 2-3 rows deep. Ladies are downstairs, mens are upstairs.
Tickets are available on TodayTix if you are after a good deal, although this show is worth more than I’ve paid for a lot of West End drivel.
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What Do You See: “Red” Brings Rothko Back to the West End
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today we are talking about “Red” on the West End, playing until the end of July.
Although giving props to white men right about now is the last thing we should be doing, I have to give some (is it a mass noun?) to white male playwright John Logan for being the first person to depict serious art and the modern art world without making me scream from the cringe. (“Sunday in the Park with George” is not about modern art and it is still the best depiction of the artist and the creative process ever to exist in the history of the world.) Whenever I’ve watched stories about self-important artists, fictional or not, or even just gone to a modern art museum (ew and oh no) my main thoughts have been ‘oh my gooooood get over yourself’. The whole ‘I have something to say and this splash of paint thrown against a singed canvas represents that but also progress and our birth’ charade makes my blood boil. Maybe it’s just because artists are so often portrayed in pop culture as pretentious wankers who really believe they have something urgent to say but they really really don’t, like Sky in “Red Oaks” (great under-the-radar show, go watch it). And all of her insufferable artist friends man alive they are the perfect example of this. You just want to Cher in Moonstruck all of them. Anyway before I start ranting even more about all the various portrayals of arrogant, affected artists in movies and TV, let’s talk about this representation of a modern artist that I actually bought into and understood, the play “Red”, about Mark Rothko’s tortured creative process.
Although giving props to white men right about now is the last thing we should be doing, I have to give some (is it a mass noun?) to white male playwright John Logan for being the first person to depict serious art and the modern art world without making me scream from the cringe. (“Sunday in the Park with George” is not about modern art and it is still the best depiction of the artist and the creative process ever to exist in the history of the world.) Whenever I’ve watched stories about self-important artists, fictional or not, or even just gone to a modern art museum (ew and oh no) my main thoughts have been ‘oh my gooooood get over yourself’. The whole ‘I have something to say and this splash of paint thrown against a singed canvas represents that but also progress and our birth’ charade makes my blood boil. Maybe it’s just because artists are so often portrayed in pop culture as pretentious wankers who really believe they have something urgent to say but they really really don’t, like Sky in “Red Oaks” (great under-the-radar show, go watch it). And all of her insufferable artist friends man alive they are the perfect example of this. You just want to Cher in Moonstruck all of them. Anyway before I start ranting even more about all the various portrayals of arrogant, affected artists in movies and TV, let’s talk about this representation of a modern artist that I actually bought into and understood, the play “Red”, about Mark Rothko’s tortured creative process.
It’s quite surprising that the subject of a play that made me more sympathetic to the strife and struggles of tormented artists is Mark Rothko, whose famous canvases are exactly the sort that would normally make me comment ‘well I made that same thing when I was five um what’ so yes this play is an achievement. It’s easy to recognize a Rothko work because it’s the one with a smudged rectangle of one color painted on it and if you’re lucky you get a second smudged rectangle of a different color. It’s the epitome of art that I simply don’t understand. It’s not that I like or dislike it but there’s only so much you can ‘feel’ from looking at a smudged rectangle, you know? How do people pay millions of dollars for big canvases with just a messy red square on it? Happily, these are questions that Logan addresses in his play “Red”, which originally premiered in London and now is back on the West End with original star Alfred Molina as Rothko.
Molina’s Rothko is the kind of performance that makes you forget that you are watching one. It quickly lets you dive in and accept that you’re watching Rothko the artist work, without ever thinking about his acting. It’s a rare performer that can so completely inhabit the character like that, erasing any trace of the actor or his well-known past performances and just presenting Rothko on that stage so fully. I didn’t get to see Fred (as his friends call him) perform this role on Broadway after its premiere but I understand now how he could have won that year’s Distinguished Performance Award from the Drama League, the best acting award there is really. I get how this performance could have defined what acting is and should be for a whole season. Fred’s costar in this production fares well but not nearly as expertly. Alfred Enoch plays Rothko’s assistant, and so we have probably the first play in the history of the theatre/the world where 100% of the cast is named Alfred. So, Enoch’s playing the role that won Eddie Redmayne a Tony. I imagine Redmayne, a stellar actor, probably also disappeared into the role, while Enoch, though he does a great job, still showed me that he was Acting quite often, mainly when using props – opening jars, mixing paint. It was often a little too stagey. Honestly, I kept thinking of the part in “Oh, Hello” when they talk about using props and John Mulaney says, “Please, do WAY too much business with the phone. Really show the audience you’ve been working with the prop all week” and Nick Kroll says “Really make a meal out of it.” So that’s what his performance, while commendable, kept reminding me of. A little too unnatural, maybe because most of his career has been onscreen (although that’s over right now #wesforever).
The play begins with the new (fictionalized) assistant arriving for his first day of work. I just looked up what the assistant’s name is and it’s Ken and I’ve never been so surprised by a fact in my life. I don’t think they ever say it but also like who is named Ken anymore. I guess this was supposed to take place more than 50 years ago but were there even Kens then? Ken (I mean) arrives in a suit for his first day of work and that’s cute but his work is in Rothko’s messy, splattered art studio so Rothko’s like “that’s cute, go change” and I like that he was a no bullshit kind of guy like that but at the same time sooooo full of bullshit like when he talks about how his red glop of paint represents everything anyone has ever felt and all that. But wait, like I said I don’t actually think that’s all utter bullshit anymore, actually, because of this play. Watching the creative process and hearing the artist debate what his work means with another artist, kind of in their own Socratic method to get to the heart of the matter, was enlightening for me, a renowned modern art truther.
Mark and Ken work together to produce Mark’s famous four murals for the new Four Seasons restaurant in the Seagram building in Midtown Manhattan. Ken is shocked that Mark accepted such a commission, creating art for a dining room full of rich obnoxious people that he despises. But Mark’s hope is to destroy their appetite, ostensibly by making them confront their inner demons and fears and passions and maybe realize how terrible they are by forcing them to confront what they feel the red means. And that question, what the red means to the individual, is mainly what Ken and Mark discuss in between mixing the paint and prepping the canvas – the latter of which is the most fun bit of the play, and from the looks of the Alfreds afterward, the most exhausting cardio. The question of what the red means, and how different and complex it can be for each individual, and all that talk talk they make in my earholes about it, is honestly what got me to come around on the whole modern art thing. Well at least Rothko’s. Well at least his red series. There is meaning and such depth of emotion and personal history and tragedy and fear and hope behind those colors, even though it looks like a simple square of paint that could have been done by a child. There really is more to it than that. And while I don’t think it should be necessary for a play to make you appreciate art, I’m grateful that this one makes me a little less hateful towards that gallery across the river from me (cough *Tate Modern* cough).
Despite being far from warm, the relationship between the two men is the provocative aspect of the show. I love how time passes for these men – two years at least – and it doesn’t seem like it. Ken seems just as unsettled at the end as he did at the beginning, and Rothko is just as detached, despite their heated discussions. I bet that Ken never showed him any of his own work. Mark wasn’t that kind of guy, the one you show your work to and ask for his ‘honest’ opinion. It would be too honest. Yet it’s clear they care for each other; you just have to understand how the artist’s mind works, as I do now (laugh). Even in his final act towards Ken, Mark doesn’t seem affectionate or caring, but his actions speak much more than his words or demeanor. There’s so much more to them than whether or not Rothko can be a nurturing father figure (he can’t) or whether that’s even what Ken wants. And there’s more than meets the eye with how the action is staged too, like how Ken finds a superdrunk Mark with his hands in his paint bucket one night, an undeniable reference to his real-life suicide. This kind of subtle direction plus the way the characters communicate with each other all feel connected to the issue of the colors and how sensitive the interpretation of them can be to each person, how just the color red can reference an entire lifetime of emotion. “Red” isn’t a big important political play or anything; it feels like a pleasant but small exploration of personalities more than anything. But if it can say so much about art and moreover get you to consider art more thoughtfully and genuinely than you had before, then that seems pretty important.
INFORMATION
The toilets at the Wyndham’s are atrocious. There are TWO ladies toilets for the entire stalls/orchestra section. The line was insane. They need to refurbish and until they do, sit on an aisle upstairs.
Also in need of a redo is their box office. For people picking up tickets at will call (literally everyone), there was ONE person at a makeshift podium handling collection. It was so inefficient I wanted to scream. I can’t with this incompetence all over the West End.
STAGE DOOR
The Alfreds are probably the nicest people who have ever come out of a stage door. Not the most efficient – there’s no Zachs Braff or Levi-style assured handling of the crowd (they would line everyone up for easy photo-taking or just take your phone and do it themselves, pros) but they were just so freaking nice, not turning anyone’s request down, even when they clearly wanted to leave and some old biddy was asking for them to sign her receipts after they already signed her ticket stubs. I wanted to be like ‘you don’t have to do this you can leave now!’ but they were just the sweetest.
Molina’s Rothko is the kind of performance that makes you forget that you are watching one. It quickly lets you dive in and accept that you’re watching Rothko the artist work, without ever thinking about his acting. It’s a rare performer that can so completely inhabit the character like that, erasing any trace of the actor or his well-known past performances and just presenting Rothko on that stage so fully. I didn’t get to see Fred (as his friends call him) perform this role on Broadway after its premiere but I understand now how he could have won that year’s Distinguished Performance Award from the Drama League, the best acting award there is really. I get how this performance could have defined what acting is and should be for a whole season. Fred’s costar in this production fares well but not nearly as expertly. Alfred Enoch plays Rothko’s assistant, and so we have probably the first play in the history of the theatre/the world where 100% of the cast is named Alfred. So, Enoch’s playing the role that won Eddie Redmayne a Tony. I imagine Redmayne, a stellar actor, probably also disappeared into the role, while Enoch, though he does a great job, still showed me that he was Acting quite often, mainly when using props – opening jars, mixing paint. It was often a little too stagey. Honestly, I kept thinking of the part in “Oh, Hello” when they talk about using props and John Mulaney says, “Please, do WAY too much business with the phone. Really show the audience you’ve been working with the prop all week” and Nick Kroll says “Really make a meal out of it.” So that’s what his performance, while commendable, kept reminding me of. A little too unnatural, maybe because most of his career has been onscreen (although that’s over right now #wesforever).
The play begins with the new (fictionalized) assistant arriving for his first day of work. I just looked up what the assistant’s name is and it’s Ken and I’ve never been so surprised by a fact in my life. I don’t think they ever say it but also like who is named Ken anymore. I guess this was supposed to take place more than 50 years ago but were there even Kens then? Ken (I mean) arrives in a suit for his first day of work and that’s cute but his work is in Rothko’s messy, splattered art studio so Rothko’s like “that’s cute, go change” and I like that he was a no bullshit kind of guy like that but at the same time sooooo full of bullshit like when he talks about how his red glop of paint represents everything anyone has ever felt and all that. But wait, like I said I don’t actually think that’s all utter bullshit anymore, actually, because of this play. Watching the creative process and hearing the artist debate what his work means with another artist, kind of in their own Socratic method to get to the heart of the matter, was enlightening for me, a renowned modern art truther.
Mark and Ken work together to produce Mark’s famous four murals for the new Four Seasons restaurant in the Seagram building in Midtown Manhattan. Ken is shocked that Mark accepted such a commission, creating art for a dining room full of rich obnoxious people that he despises. But Mark’s hope is to destroy their appetite, ostensibly by making them confront their inner demons and fears and passions and maybe realize how terrible they are by forcing them to confront what they feel the red means. And that question, what the red means to the individual, is mainly what Ken and Mark discuss in between mixing the paint and prepping the canvas – the latter of which is the most fun bit of the play, and from the looks of the Alfreds afterward, the most exhausting cardio. The question of what the red means, and how different and complex it can be for each individual, and all that talk talk they make in my earholes about it, is honestly what got me to come around on the whole modern art thing. Well at least Rothko’s. Well at least his red series. There is meaning and such depth of emotion and personal history and tragedy and fear and hope behind those colors, even though it looks like a simple square of paint that could have been done by a child. There really is more to it than that. And while I don’t think it should be necessary for a play to make you appreciate art, I’m grateful that this one makes me a little less hateful towards that gallery across the river from me (cough *Tate Modern* cough).
Despite being far from warm, the relationship between the two men is the provocative aspect of the show. I love how time passes for these men – two years at least – and it doesn’t seem like it. Ken seems just as unsettled at the end as he did at the beginning, and Rothko is just as detached, despite their heated discussions. I bet that Ken never showed him any of his own work. Mark wasn’t that kind of guy, the one you show your work to and ask for his ‘honest’ opinion. It would be too honest. Yet it’s clear they care for each other; you just have to understand how the artist’s mind works, as I do now (laugh). Even in his final act towards Ken, Mark doesn’t seem affectionate or caring, but his actions speak much more than his words or demeanor. There’s so much more to them than whether or not Rothko can be a nurturing father figure (he can’t) or whether that’s even what Ken wants. And there’s more than meets the eye with how the action is staged too, like how Ken finds a superdrunk Mark with his hands in his paint bucket one night, an undeniable reference to his real-life suicide. This kind of subtle direction plus the way the characters communicate with each other all feel connected to the issue of the colors and how sensitive the interpretation of them can be to each person, how just the color red can reference an entire lifetime of emotion. “Red” isn’t a big important political play or anything; it feels like a pleasant but small exploration of personalities more than anything. But if it can say so much about art and moreover get you to consider art more thoughtfully and genuinely than you had before, then that seems pretty important.
INFORMATION
The toilets at the Wyndham’s are atrocious. There are TWO ladies toilets for the entire stalls/orchestra section. The line was insane. They need to refurbish and until they do, sit on an aisle upstairs.
Also in need of a redo is their box office. For people picking up tickets at will call (literally everyone), there was ONE person at a makeshift podium handling collection. It was so inefficient I wanted to scream. I can’t with this incompetence all over the West End.
STAGE DOOR
The Alfreds are probably the nicest people who have ever come out of a stage door. Not the most efficient – there’s no Zachs Braff or Levi-style assured handling of the crowd (they would line everyone up for easy photo-taking or just take your phone and do it themselves, pros) but they were just so freaking nice, not turning anyone’s request down, even when they clearly wanted to leave and some old biddy was asking for them to sign her receipts after they already signed her ticket stubs. I wanted to be like ‘you don’t have to do this you can leave now!’ but they were just the sweetest.
It’s Olivier Awards Weekend! Predictions, Thoughts, Rants, Jazz Hands
Just kidding there are no jazz hands in here, unless you just imagine me doing them but then how would I be typing? The Olivier Awards, the most bonkers awards show in the world (yes even crazier than the Golden Globes, if you can believe it) are this Sunday, April 7, and even though I have rage bubbling inside me, RAGE, about all aspects of the Oliviers (not least of all the fact that this is the one award show I can watch on TV in the UK?? no Tonys, no Oscars, but this? (and they don’t even let the TV audience see the whole thing OR see it live! They make a supercut and air it after the fact BRITS GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER STAY IN THE EU AND DO AWARD SHOWS BETTER)) (also the Mastercard sponsorship visibility is excessive and obnoxious), they are still an award show honoring musical theatre, I mean, you’re doing my two favorite things guys I’m still EXCITED even though I’m ANGRY, okay? It’s like Amy Adams’ anger in “Enchanted” when she is excited about being angry. “Oh! I’m angry! ha ha! I’m angry!” You know? You don’t know!
Why am I such a nonfan of the Olivier Awards? Why am I experiencing some serious agita and going through my stash of Rennie all week (nb: that’s British for Tums)? How on earth could anyone in their right mind say they are crazier than the Golden Globes? Because they are, Mitch. One peeve with the Oliviers is that they loves, LOVES, them some group nominations when they aren’t really appropriate. Group nominations are okay when it’s children rotating in the same part: the four Matildas, the three Billies Elliot. They are not the right move when voters simply can’t or SHANT choose between cast members that are all doing a good job. Guys, I don’t know if you know this, but they’re all supposed to do a good job, that’s literally their job. And your one job, you insane voters, is to CHOOSE. MAKE A G-D CHOICE! Oh it’s too hard for your pale British sensibilities? IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE HARD! THAT MEANS PEOPLE ARE DOING GOOD WORK IN YOUR THEATRES! In recent years, Olivier voters have literally nominated ENTIRE CASTS into ONE slot instead of choosing among them. They’ve done so this year with the three lead actors in The Lehman Trilogy – all playing different roles, this is not a child-rotating sitch – and with all six of Henry VIII’s wives in the musical Six, all put into one supporting actress slot. Not only is that not fair to the other competitors (who wants to compete against an entire cast?), it’s the same as giving a participation trophy. They’d all deserve a nomination in their own right, of course. These are all incredible performers and I’d have trouble deciding who to nominate among them. But that’s the point of an awards show, to choose the best of the best. lol like that’s what voters ever do.
My other biggest gripe with the Oliviers is my same problem with most award shows: they’re hella wrong all the time and I can’t punch them in the face about it. Oh also the aforementioned refusal to air the telecast live on BBC, choosing instead to show a ‘highlights’ reel hours later. First of all, how dare you.
The indisputable biggest problem of this particular year, hoo boy, is that we’re just going to pretend that Hadestown, the best musical of the year, the best musical on Broadway this season likely to win the Tony, and one of the best musicals in years period, wasn’t eligible for the Oliviers, because if we recognize that it was eligible and the voters just completely overlooked it, I might explode. Honestly get some new voters; they are obviously incompetent. Okay so we are all in agreement that Hadestown wasn’t eligible because that’s the only way we can get through this, right, because otherwise they would have swept every category? Right, good. Let’s do this infuriating nonsense!
This one isn’t even a question; it’s The Inheritance by a mile. Or by more than 7 hours of amazingness, as this play is an epic in every sense of the word but not least because it’s a two-parter of almost four hours each part. And I loved all of it! The exquisite Part 1 on its own would still be the best new play of this year and probably most years, but together with Part 2, The Inheritance is one of the most important, impressive, emotionally taxing shows ever. I can’t wait for it to go to Broadway and get even more acclaim. The only other new play I’d love to be in this category is the great Home, I’m Darling, which, because it’s funny, is nominated in the separate Best New Comedy category, which is another reason why I hate the Oliviers. I mean I’m glad it has a better chance to win in that one but still, comedies are plays too, guys. So classist.
THIS SOME BULLSHIT, HEAR ME? Poor Kyle Soller, gave the best performance by a longshot but will lose to either Ian McKellen (because it’s Ian McKellen and doing King Lear at that, a pairing that’s like the theatre version of Ricky Gervais telling Kate Winslet on ‘Extras’ how in order to win an Oscar she should do a Holocaust role (which she did because she did)), or to the triumvirate that shouldn’t be of Adam Godley, Ben Miles, and Simon Russell Beale all nominated in one slot. All five men are doing excellent work (and should be the five nominees total ok you get it) but Kyle’s performance was the most human, touching, and with over 7 hours of material, difficult. Shouldn’t that give him the edge? I wish.
Oh and one more reason to hate the Oliviers this year a bit extra: Kyle is the only actor from The Inheritance nominated, out of a cast of all incredible performances. I’m not going to write separately about supporting actor in a play because I’m too furious, but how Andrew Burnap wasn’t nominated for his Toby Darling when I would have bet the world on his win is beyond me, let alone no Walter? No JBenj Hickey? What a mess.
I haven’t seen Summer and Smoke yet, which is a shame because I’ve heard that Patsy Ferran is the one to beat. I did see all the other nominees, though! Gillian Anderson should not be nominated for the pile of rotting garbage that was All About Eve. The other three though are all worthy competitors. Eileen Atkins was heartbreaking and vibrant in The Height of the Storm, Sophie Okonedo was crayballs and fire emoji power in Antony and Cleopatra, and Katherine Parkinson would have my vote for her wonderful starring role in Home, I’m Darling. Love her! Excited to see what happens here.
This one’s hard for me, a fight between my head and my heart. Caroline, or Change was not my cup of tea; in fact, I was quite disappointed in the story and score, though I can admit this production is doing a good job of presenting those subpar elements. I know, we all know, that the much-beloved, much-raved about, much-exalted gender-swapped and groundbreaking revival of Company is going to win and possibly sweep. But The King And I is better. The Broadway transfer lost a little of its magic as it crossed the pond, but it’s still a solid production of a great show. The Company revival, on the other hand, revealed all the weaknesses of that show. I get that it will (and should win) because it’s an important revisioning of an old property, but honestly I just did not enjoy it. And I saw it twice, convinced it was my fault. It wasn’t. It’s a very impressive show visually, but there’s no heart in that story, no matter what gender Bobby is. The more I think about what message it was trying to convey this time around, the more I want to throw up my hands and sigh petulantly.
But because Company is such an otherwise well received and yes important show this year, with yes groundbreaking changes, Marianne Elliot will probably also win for direction. Oh this is ANOTHER reason I hate the Oliviers – they combine all directors, of plays and musicals, into one category. What a way to show how little you value their work! Ashley’s direction was the one part I liked of Come From Away, and I understand why he won the Tony, and I would be okay with him winning here (if that was the only thing CFA won, of course. The only one it deserves). Although I would be voting for Daldry’s impeccable work on The Inheritance, I admit that Elliot’s win would be deserved. Her vision of a new Company is notable, even if I don’t like the finished product.
How forking STACKED is this category! I’d be okay with any one of these actresses winning. Well that’s not true; I’d be okay with Kelli (since she won’t win a Tony this year) or Adrienne (working harder than anyone ever has worked up on that stage) winning, yet I realize that it’s more likely for Rosalie or Sharon to win. I was so ready to be awed by the latter two, and while they were good, the flaws of their respective shows did them no justice in my eyes. I’m pretty sure it’s Rosalie’s award, but I’d be happier for my queen Kelli or the incredible Adrienne to win.
Whereas Best Actress in a musical is the tightest race, Best Actor in a Musical is the weakest. None of these stand out to me. I love Ken Watanabe’s King but I’d be shocked if he won. And out of all the many nominations Fun Home deserved, I’m beyond shocked that the one acting nod it received was for the weakest performance in the show. (Zubin was good, but it was the weakest. I’m shocked that Middle Allison wasn’t nominated.) This race will surprise me, I’m sure, but I think it’ll go to Suddenly Seymour.
Faaaack, I take back what I said about the strongest race being Best Actress in a musical. It’s definitely Best Supporting Actress. All of these are pretty worthy performances, even though one of them should have five fewer people in there. Oof. Okay, let’s start at the top. Patti LuPone is going to win, because everyone loves Patti. I love Patti too, but I think her Joanne is her least inspired performance to date. It felt like pandering for cheap laughs to her devoted audience that would cheer for her even if she slapped their grandmothers. Ruthie, my god I love Ruthie and would love this win for her, but she didn’t actually perform on the show’s official opening night (she had an alternate), so some bozos are salty that she even got nominated, which stinks, because she is so lovely in this role. Rachel Tucker gets to perform the one great song in Come From Away and she does incredible things with it, but she’s one of a superbly hard-working ensemble that all play numerous characters, and they don’t really get the chance to make an impression as any of the characters, too busy running around and changing hats. And then we have six actresses from Six sharing the last nomination, which by now you know how ridiculous I find that. Yes, they were all great in a spectacular show, but it’s not that hard to pick the best of them. Why can’t voters vote for their favorite and see what happens? I could have helped them narrow the field to the very best: it’s Katherine Howard, played by Aimee Atkinson. She has the best song and forking kills it beyond belief. She is spectacular and deserved to get an nomination in her own right.
This is the only category that’s a lock: It’s Jonathan Bailey in Company, the first man to play Jamie and sing about how he’s Not Getting Married Today. He was the main reason I was almost happy to see the show again, with a performance that’s the definition of award-worthy. He’s hilarious, riveting, magnetic, and did I say hilarious? I hope he performs on the telecast. The best part of the show.
All the other critics and audiences are loving Come From Away, and even though I don’t think it’s actually great, the show as a whole is moving and that tricks people into thinking all its parts are of great quality. I get that, but there’s no excuse for thinking the music is the best of this bunch. That honor belongs to Fun Home, who should win for its elegant, sophisticated, deeply felt score about a real family and all the intimate thoughts and memories that come with that. If Fun Home can’t win, the honor should go to Six, for some of the catchiest, most riotously fun and clever music to come out of British musical theatre. I’ll be pissed if Come From Away wins for its mediocre score. The other two nominees are plays!! No surer sign of a dip in musical theatre quality than when plays are nominated for score. (I mean unless they are absolutely incredible play scores but I don’t even remember the music from The Inheritance.)
All the momentum and good will (however misplaced I feel it is) belongs to Come From Away, no matter how wrong I hope I am. Maybe Fun Home would have had a better chance if it didn’t end all the way back in September, but regardless of when it played, it deserved to win. I’m sad that it won’t. I’d be happy with Six winning, even though it is not a fully-fledged book musical and more of a fun rock concert. Everyone enjoys Tina but, like most jukebox musicals, it has a weak book. I will be surprised if CFA doesn’t win, but I will be happy.
What kinds of crap do you think will go down on Sunday? Will the voters ever live down their shame for ignoring Hadestown? Will someone with no ties to NYC talk about 9/11? Will Patti LuPone talk so long that they try to play her off and she tells them to can it? My guesses are no, yes, and hell yes.
